


Cracks in the porcelain

by LachrymoseLake



Category: RWBY
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-01
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2019-03-12 10:04:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13545081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LachrymoseLake/pseuds/LachrymoseLake
Summary: The fears that plagued her, that kept her from sleep, came swarming over her again, the dread and despair settled low in her heart just as a few salty tears rose behind her eyes and slipped down her porcelain face. Wiess' silent plea for help.Arms wrapping cautiously around Wiess' waist and a forehead pressed to the crook of her neck from behind was the answer to her plea.





	Cracks in the porcelain

She had a choice, insomnia or the nightmare sleep had perpetually become. But just because Weiss had a choice didn't mean she chose correctly. She didn't, honestly, see it as a choice at all; every day was a new battle. No, the same battle with new skirmishes. Classes, assignments, teammates, more classes, the endless fight to keep her lunch down, more schoolwork, desperate attempts to hide her yawns from her blessedly oblivious team. Then slip into bed with the others and wait for the telltale snores from Yang to signal the all clear, stumble out of bed and climb the well-worn path up to the peaceful roof.

Every night she would find what little solace she could while sat crosslegged with the moon and starry breeze, dry eyes sore from the weeks of restlessness and mind fuzzy from overuse. 

Fear of sleep, of re-living that horrific battle, kept her awake but she could only last so long without rest. Could only function for so long before she snapped, shattered into too many pieces to even contemplate being put back together. And every day, every 'I'm okay', every lie to her team, to her friends, caused a hairline fracture to split the porcelain mask of perfection she kept in place to fool the world. With that painted on smile and blank, lifeless eyes.

She was starting to see herself as a broken doll, losing her humanity, losing her Weiss-ness every time she glanced a peek at herself in the mirror. She was moving through the motions of the day-to-day without that awareness that made life worth living. 

But then, sometimes, Weiss slipped. Her mind would wander, and her eyes would go to blink but never make the return trip, and she'd just drift away.

****

Everything was dark, so so dark. Time seemed to lag as the faces around her jumped and skipped, blurring between horrified and helpless. She didn't know who they were, couldn't even place her surroundings.

It was just dark. Dark and cold...and so loud.

She couldn't remember what had happened but she was laying on the ground, ears ringing, head spinning as she struggled for precious tendrils of oxygen. Then, suddenly, she wasn't cold. The numbness was gone. 

Now, now she burned.

A roaring, engulfing, all-encompassing heat that crawled from Weiss' side, from the spear hole that was a gaping space in her side, tongs of flame licking through her blood and sapping her strength. Stealing her scream from the back of her throat and dragging it back down, choking her.

She couldn't fight it; her weakness was the fire's gasoline. And, lord knows she was so weak, so exhausted and all she wanted to do was lay there, to accept the pain. Once you accept it, it can't hurt you anymore. She just wanted to close her eyes and shut the oppressive blackness out, the faces, the world. To just give in to sleep.

But no. 

One voice, small but mighty, broken and pleading, it shattered the inky blackness, pierced the ringing haze clogging her ears. One voice urged fight into her heart, reminding her downed self that she had to get up.

"No...**No**!"

It rung and echoed and fought for her.

No.

No.

No!

No to what? To the sweet temptation of death, to the burning, raging fire that clawed at her? Or to the cold depths that beckoned her, welcomed her with cold arms?

No. No to all of that. That voice told Weiss 'no' so no is what she said too.

No to giving up.

No to giving in.

No to acceptance. 

No to pain.

And so she fought. The agony, the dark, the spinning dizziness, everything. But most of all Weiss battled that soft murmur deep within herself that said 'just give up, just give in.'

She fought, but fighting was worse than acceptance because no matter how hard she tried she was helpless. No matter how she attempted to thrash, to fight tooth and nail, she was paralysed, crucified at the hand of fate.

Doomed to feel the icy claws sink into her feverish flesh and drag her down, to watch the blurred faces stretch and warp and fall away above her. To feel her stomach churn and swirl, to grasp at a breath only for her lungs to be set ablaze by emptiness and need, to shake and convulse in the throes of death.

To shiver and jerk.

To...

To...

Weiss gasped, and the memory of fiery pain in her lungs was washed away with calm, soothing air. The darkness dulled to blue, a deep and intense blue with a million specs of light piercing through it; it filled her dazed vision.

The icy talons morphed into soft, urgent hands. Weiss' shivering lurches of death became the desperate shake that had dragged her to wakefulness. Weiss felt the hands pull at her, gently lifting her from the hard floor she hadn't even realised she was laying on, head lulling back lifelessly. As she was lifted the sky rolled above her and she realised they were stars, bright, beautiful stars in the frosty heavens.

Then, then there was yellow. Yellow hair, yellow clothes and pale yellow breath in the dim lamplight. Yellow Yang.

Yang's hands glided from Weiss' arms to her shoulders, and there was a strong, caring pull from them, and she found herself falling once again. This time she let herself fall into warm arms, not the scorching, terrifying fires but a warm and comforting embrace. Weiss felt herself become immersed in the wordless murmurs that offered unyielding support, the steady thrum of Yang's heart.

Weiss let herself succumb to the soft, fuzzy emptiness of dreamless sleep in the embrace of the one person she trusted to guard her, to save her. Always.

****

The next time Weiss' eyes opened her brain was not ready, it fought to reclaim the peaceful slumber it was still deprived of from the weeks before, but in the end, once the bright sunlight pierced through her curtain of eyelashes there was no going back. But, just to be stubborn, Weiss' brain woke slowly, so her eyes were blinking blearily as the rest her was still rebooting.

The first thing Weiss noticed was the soft, sweet-smelling pillow that cradled half her face; the warm duvet tucked around her came in a close second. Even her struggling brain could deduce that she was not where she was. There were no stars nor moon and the surface beneath her soft and inviting apposed to cold and uncomfortable. 

Through the light blur of her eyes, Weiss saw a vague shape, a mix of yellow and black. She blinked slowly, bringing the image into focus and Wiess' heart did a doubletake in her chest. 

Yang.

Yang sat hunched over in a chair, elbows propped on knee's, wide lilac eyes intent on her. Weiss felt a faint smile tug at her lips, but it swiftly faded when she registered the look of fury simmering on the blondes face, the clenched hands and the firm downturn of thinned lips.

In short, Yang looked pissed.

Weiss shifted and started to push herself up on the bed, intent on giving the one responsible for putting that look on Yangs face a true Schnee smackdown, only for her shoulder to meet a stern, warm, hand that deftly eased her back down. Weiss' arms shook under the extra strain of Yang's hand, and she let herself fall onto the mattress, a few strands of her white hair dropping over her face.

"Don't you even dare, Princess. You are not even goin' to think about movin' from this bed until tomorrow morning, at the earliest, is that understood?" Yang's voice, though soft, had a trenchant edge that was impossible for even the sleep deprived Weiss to ignore. But, even as Weiss unwittingly shrunk back under Yang's commanding tone, the hand on her arm turned tender, rubbing in a soothing, circular motion. 

Yang's next words were quieter, more sincere.

"Weiss, what the hell do you think you were doin'? I was scared senseless." Yang brushed her hand down the heiress' arm until she could cradle a single pale hand in both of her heated ones, leaning forward in the seat to stare intently into blue orbs. Even with the sincerity of the atmosphere, Weiss couldn't help but jokingly prod at her teammate, desperate to divert the attention from herself.

"I-I have to be honest, your senselessness has become quite the defining feature for you, Brute. No need to be alarmed." Really it shouldn't have been that painful to talk, but it was, her throat felt raw and abused, probably from the night of screaming, and she had to flinch at every other word. As bad as it felt, it sounded even worse, a choked, rasping collection of words that would make the most iron-stomached man wince.

The warmth was suddenly retracted from her hands, and Weiss gave a panicked whine, she thought she had pushed too far, finally slipped too snuggly to her decathect nature and pushed her saviour away. 

She struggled again, breathing heavily as she fought against the duvet, eyes drooping further by the second. But then Yang's warmth was there again, wrapping around her, effortlessly lifting the pressure off of Wiess' arms as she stripped the blanket down to her feet to de-tangle her.

A calloused knuckle brushed tenderly at the stray strands of Weiss' hair, and she looked up into the concerned features of Yang, eyes absently fixing on the trapped lower lip of the blonde as her mind blurred, she was fairly certain she blacked out again. For only a brief second before she came to laying in Yang's lap on the bed, duvet pulled up around her knees and Yang's arms cocooning her weak body. 

"Hey, come on, just relax. Come on, shh shh shh. It's okay." Yang's soft cooings had Wiess relaxing back into the embrace, and the amplified heat of Yang's body had Weiss' eyes wanting to capitulate to the dark depths of sleep, now that Yang was there she felt like she might just be able to succumb peacefully. 

Just as her eyes closed, flashes of emotion and images skittered across her mind; numbness, isolation, agony, despair, searing heat, the cruel gleam in Cinder's eye and the flaming point of the spear as it sliced through the air to bury itself in her flesh.

Weiss' eyes snapped open, and she sat bolt upright, body tense and breath caught in her throat. The fears that plagued her, that kept her from sleep, came swarming over her again, the dread and despair settled low in her heart just as a few salty tears rose behind her eyes and slipped down her porcelain face. Weiss' silent plea for help.

Arms wrapping cautiously around Weiss' waist and a forehead pressed to the crook of her neck from behind was the answer to her plea. 

"Weiss, please, listen. I will never let that woman hurt you, I saved you once, and I will do it again. From these dreams or anything you need saving from." Weiss felt Yang take a stuttering breath behind her, hold tightening around her, cold drops of moisture soaked the fabric covering her back. "But this hurts me, to see you like this is horrible, you need to sleep, and I will be right here, I will not move, and I will not let the nightmares overwhelm you."

Then Yang began to hum, a simple yet beautiful melody that reverberated in her chest, soothing Weiss as she cried herself into exhaustion before going limp in the taller girls arms. Trusting her teammate to keep her word, to protect her and to save her, to always be there. 

How could she not trust her, she was Yang.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you very much for reading, please feel free to leave some feedback so I can improve. Peace, love and continue reading <3


End file.
